Mine Again
by Emmie0928
Summary: The day after graduation, Victoire Weasley hops on a plane to New York without a word to anyone, leaving a very stunned, very heartbroken Teddy Lupin behind.
1. Chapter 1

Sometimes Victoire Weasley wasn't sure if she was really in love with Teddy Lupin.

Yes, she loved kissing him. She loved the way he smelled. She loved his crooked little smile and his ever-changing hair color. She loved that he could make her laugh and that he always held in hand in public.

But she wasn't sure she really loved _him. _She knew everyone, including him, expected them to get married a year or two after she graduated from Hogwarts. Everyone expected them to buy a small house not far from Shell Cottage. They expected her to get a sensible desk job at the Ministry, one that allowed her to be home in time to have dinner on the table for her husband. They expected them to raise a family, grow old together, and spend the rest of their lives in that little house by the ocean.

And quite frankly, Victoire Weasley didn't like that idea. She didn't want to be stuck in Tinworth for the rest of her life. She wanted to travel. She wanted to experience things. She wanted to meet people. She didn't want to be stuck with the first boy she'd ever been with for the rest of her life.

So the day after she graduated, she converted the money she'd been saving since she was a little girl to muggle money and she got on a plane to New York City.

And she didn't look back.

* * *

Everyone speculated about her leaving, of course.

"Not a word to anyone," whispered Melania Muldoon, leaning forward in her seat at the reception desk of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, desperate to catch a peek of Teddy Lupin when he arrived that morning. "She just took off."

Hazel Denholm adjusted her ill-fitting robes and smoothed down her frizzy hair. "Imagine that," she murmured dreamily. "Just hopping on a plane and going to New York City. It sounds wonderful."

"There he is," hissed Melania, immediately lowering her head. She shuffled through a stack of papers she was pretending to read, all the while watching over the top of her glasses as Teddy Lupin passed by.

"Good morning, ladies," he said, nodding his head and giving them a warm smile.

Hazel swooned.

Melania tried to hide her disappointment. She'd been expecting him to look haggard, maybe with dark circles under his eyes or alcohol on his breath. His girlfriend had just left him and run of to New York, for Merlin's sake. Instead he was just as he'd always been, impeccably dressed and as friendly as ever. That was hardly gossip worthy material.

"He's so handsome," whispered Hazel, watching him disappear down the hall and around the corner.

Melania gave a noncommittal grunt in reply

"What?" Hazel asked. "Don't you agree?"

Melania sighed, as if the conversation had become just too much to bear. She set down her quill and removed her glasses. "Hazel," she said in her most serious voice. "As someone older and wiser than yourself, I consider it my duty to tell you that you don't have a chance with Teddy Lupin."

Hazel looked hurt, her hands immediately flying up to smooth her hair. For the thousandth time that week, she wished she looked more like Victoire Weasley.

"It's not as if you don't have your charms, dear," the older woman continued. "You're really quite lovely. But let's face it; Teddy is never going to take notice. You need to focus your sights on someone more attainable. Like Tony."

"The maintenance man?"

Melania nodded. "Yes, dear. I'm afraid so."

* * *

Teddy Lupin really did not want to be at work. Mondays were always horrible, but this one was particularly bad. Two days before, his girlfriend had hopped on a plane and disappeared across the Atlantic Ocean. Just days before he had been planning to propose to her. Now the ring was sitting its velvet box in a drawer in has flat. It was all he could think about, that ring just sitting there, gathering dust.

He was in a daze all day, though you'd never guess it by looking at him. He tried to go about his business as usual. After all, he was an adult and he had a job to do. He was completely distracted when he slammed into someone, his mind too stuck on Victoire to notice the person walking down the hallway in his direction. They collided and papers went flying.

"I'm so sorry," he said, kneeling down and gathering up the stray parchment.

"That's okay," a female voice replied.

He looked up, to see to whom the voice belonged. He recognized her. She was that girl from the reception desk. What was her name again?

Hailey?

Hannah?

Holly?

Hazel?

Yes, Hazel. That was it. Hazel.

"I'm sorry, Hazel," he said, standing up and handing her the stack of papers. "I just have a lot on my mind this morning."

The girl stared at him, her mouth hanging open a bit.

* * *

Teddy Lupin knew her name.

Teddy Lupin knew _her_ name.

Hazel Denholm had forgotten how to speak. Or breathe.

Snapping back to her senses, she quickly flashed him a sympathetic smile. "Yeah, I heard about that. I'm really sorry."

"I just can't believe she left," Teddy said.

Hazel didn't know what to say. She had never seen Teddy Lupin look the way he did now. Staring at the ground. Confused, unhappy expression on his face. Hair that seemed to be growing a duller shade of brown by the minute.

"I really love her," he said, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his robe. "I thought she loved me too."

"Erm," Hazel said, trying not to panic. Why was she telling her all this? Merlin's beard, he'd never said anything other than 'good morning' and 'see you tomorrow' to her in the entire year she'd worked there.

"She was _mine_," he whispered hoarsely. "And now she's gone."

"Do you want a piece of cake?" Hazel blurted before she could stop herself.

Teddy blinked. "Cake?"

"My grandmother baked me a cake," she explained, her face growing red. "It's delicious. She's the best cook in the world."

"Cake sounds good," he said.

* * *

Teddy was completely mortified. He'd been crying. _Crying. _In front of a girl. Whom he barely knew. About his girlfriend who had left him.

At least he was getting cake out of it.

* * *

Melania Muldoon watched in shock as Teddy Lupin followed Hazel Denholm into the break room. She quickly put on her glasses and leaned as far to the side as she could without tumbling out off her chair, trying to get a peek inside the room. What could they be doing in there?

"M-ms. Muldoon?"

She nearly toppled out of her chair in surprise. Quickly sitting up straight, she found herself face to face with one of the men from Magical Maintenance.

"Oh, hello, Tony," she said, smoothing down her sleek bob, glad that nobody important had seen her. "What can I do for you?"

"I-I-I was w-wondering if Hazel w-was around?" he asked nervously, picking at a loose thread on his robes.

Melania smiled, exposing a set of blindingly white teeth. "I'm sorry, dear," she said. "But she's a little busy right now."

"B-b-but," Tony stammered, glancing down at his watch, "isn't this when she usually g-gets off?"

Melania continued smiling. "Yes, dear. But you see, she's in the break room –"

"Oh," he said. "W-w-well, I'll j-just go find her then."

"With Teddy Lupin!" Melania added gleefully.

Tony's eyes widened. "Oh? W-well, erm, I…I'll j-just be g-going then."

He turned to leave, a forlorn expression on his face.

"Oh, Tony," Melania said.

He turned. "Y-yes?"

"Have you ever thought about doing something about your stutter?" she asked, examining her blood red fingernails.

"I-I-I… N-no –"

"Because I have someone I could refer you to," she said.

"T-that's not n-necessary."

"Well, just thought I'd offer," she said. She glanced at the clock. "Merlin's beard, is that really the time? Why in the world am I still here?"

She stood up, grabbed her purse, and brushed past Tony, leaving him behind in a cloud of perfume.

* * *

Tony Trimble sighed heavily when he reached his shabby flat in London. He pulled of his navy work robes and threw himself down on his bed.

Teddy Lupin? That was who he was competing with for Hazel Denholm's affections?

He was doomed.

* * *

**I wrote this a while ago and then forgot about it. I probably shouldn't be posting it now, but oh well.**

**Please review and let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

Victoire Weasley stood in Times Square, gazing upward in awe. Everything was so big. So tall. The buildings seemed to reach the sky. Every direction she turned, there was something different to look at. There were people everywhere, their conversations swirling through the air in every accent and language she'd ever heard spoken in one place. There were flashing lights and yellow cabs and so many people.

This was where she belonged. She was sure if it. More sure than she'd ever been of anything in her life.

Now she just had to figure out where to go from here.

Because for the first time in her life, she had no home, no family, no friends. _No Teddy._

She was alone.

* * *

Melania Muldoon was sure that she was going to have to strangle Hazel Denholm. Ever since Teddy Lupin had bothered to notice that she existed, she had really become quite insufferable. She talked about him constantly when he wasn't around, in a reverent tone that one normally reserved for a king or deity. On top of that, she had taken to giggling uncontrollably whenever he walked by, fluttering her eyelashes and giving what Melania assumed was supposed to be a flirtatious smile and wave.

When this whole thing had started a week ago, Melania had been amused. They were such unexpected, mismatched pair. But now the whole thing had gotten out of hand and she decided that something needed to be done to put a stop to it.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" she snapped, slamming her quill down after a particularly long monologue from Hazel about just how white Teddy's teeth were. "You really must stop with the hero worship of this boy, dear. It's getting out of hand. He's not your prince charming and he's never going to ride up on a white stallion and sweep you away off to his castle."

Hazel turned red. "I…I know that," she stammered. "We're just friends. He's still sad about Victoire and he needs someone to talk to. I don't think he's ever going to, you know…ask me out or anything. That would be ridiculous."

"Tony asked about you the other day," Melania said, flicking her wand, sending an inderdepartmental memo fluttering down the hallway and into the lift.

"Mmm," Hazel said, obviously uninterested.

"He's a nice boy," Melania added.

Hazel looked up. "I know that," she said. "But I'm not really interested. He's not the…brightest, you know?"

Melania sighed. "Of course he's not, dear. But you've got to settle down at some point. You don't want to become an old maid like me, do you?"

"I'm only nineteen!" Hazel exclaimed. "I think I've got time for all that."

"I used to think I had time too, Hazel. But time goes faster than one expects it to. Do you think I ever imagined that one day I would be 45 and still single?"

Hazel shook her head slowly, a fearful expression on her face.

"Right," Melania said, clapping her hands together. "Would you be a dear and take these files down to Mr. Punjab for me? I can't walk in these shoes for a second more today. The person who sold them to me was obviously an incompetent fool. They don't fit me in the slightest."

Hazel nodded slowly, scooping up the papers. "Of course," she said. "It's no problem at all."

* * *

Victoire stood nervously in the corner of the kitchen. She'd never worked a day in her life and here she was about to start her first job as a server for a Wizarding catering company. The party they were serving was taking place in a fancy hotel ballroom and, from one she'd overheard from others, everyone who was anyone in the east coast Wizarding world would be in attendance.

She tugged nervously at the collar of her starched white blouse and wished she could wear something more flattering. The black trousers were doing her no favors and neither were the ugly, plain black shoes. This would be an excellent time to make a good impression on a young Ministry official, but it would be hard to dressed like this, especially with her hair up in a ponytail and so little makeup on. Still, she'd always been told she was naturally beautiful and charming, so it couldn't be too difficult. Because this was completely necessary. If there was one thing Victoire knew for sure (besides the fact that she belonged in NYC) it was that she was not meant to be poor. She liked nice things. Was that such a crime? And because she certainly didn't have the skills to become a high-ranking Ministry official herself, she would just have to find one to marry.

"It helps if you unbutton the first few buttons on your shirt," a male voice said from behind her.

She whirled around. A boy who appeared to be about her age, maybe a year or two older, was standing there, watching her with piercing green eyes.

"Excuse me?" she snapped, sure that she had heard him wrong.

"That's what the other girls do," he said. "The ones who want to bed themselves a rich Ministry man."

"I don't want to_ bed_ anyone," she snarled.

And she didn't. She wasn't that kind of girl. Never had been and never wanted to be. Teddy was the only boy she'd ever been with. The only boy she'd ever even kissed. The thought of finding herself another boyfriend was strange enough, but she had come to terms with the fact that it had to be done. But she certainly wasn't going to shag _anyone_ anytime soon. If a boy didn't like her without sex, then she didn't want him to like her anyway.

The boy rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah, I'm sure," he said.

"I don't!" she exclaimed, wishing she didn't feel the need to justify herself to him. "I don't shag boys I don't know."

He just lifted an eyebrow, giving her a look that clearly said he didn't believe her.

"I don't know why I'm even bothering to explain this to you anyway," she snapped. "Who are you anyway?"

"Lawson Mills," he replied, running his hands through his dark hair. "I'm the busboy and dish washer. Who are you?"

"Victoire Weasley."

The smug expression on his face vanished for a moment and he gaped at her, mouth hanging open. "_Weasley_?" he asked. "As in,_ the_ Weasleys?"

She nodded.

"Then why are you in here?" he asked, gesturing around the kitchen, "and not out there?" He nodded toward the double doors that led out into the grand ballroom.

"Because," she said. "I'm here alone. I have to make a living somehow, don't I?"

"You ran away?" he asked, a bewildered expression on his face. "From that kind of life? Why would you do that?"

"None of your business," she told him, turning away. "Now of you'll excuse me, I have a job to do."

She walked away, fuming. What an insufferable git. She hoped she never had to talk to him again.

* * *

Tony Trimble was having a bad day. He'd tried to start a conversation with Hazel on the lift that morning, but then Teddy Lupin had gotten on and all hope had been lost. He wondered what it would be like to be somebody like him, even just for a day. To have every girl who glanced in your direction swoon. And be so used to it that you hardly even noticed. Hazel looked at Teddy the way a puppy looked at their owner. And Teddy couldn't have been more oblivious to that fact if he had tried.

What a life that had to be.

* * *

Teddy Lupin was staring at Hazel Denholm's breasts.

He hadn't meant to. He'd just glanced down and there they'd been. When had she started wearing such low-cut, tight-fitting robes, anyway? From what he remembered, Hazel had always been a bit…frumpy. He hadn't realized _this _was what she had been hiding underneath there.

"Teddy?"

He quickly lifted his head, feeling his face heating up. She'd noticed. She knew he'd been staring at her chest. She probably thought he was a pig. He should apologize. His grandmother had raised him better than this. If she were here right now, she'd smack him upside the head.

"Did you hear what I said?" she asked.

"About what?" he asked, feeling more than a little flustered. What in the world had they even been talking about?

"About my idea," she said. "For the updates on the trading laws."

"Oh," he said. "Right, right." It all came rushing back to him. "Hazel, that was a really good idea."

She blushed. "You're just saying that."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "No, Hazel, I'm serious. That was brilliant. Really."

"You really think so?"

"I really do," he said. "I don't why you're working at the administrative desk. With a mind like that, you could end up higher ranking than all of us by the time you're thirty."

Her face was growing redder by the minute. "You're just saying that."

"No, I'm not," he reassured her. "I can talk to Mr. Punjab if you like. I could tell him about your ideas. Maybe even convince him to talk to you. Who knows, maybe he'll even end up promoting you."

Hazel shook her head. "I can't ask you to do that, Teddy."

"Too bad," he said, standing up and walking out from behind his desk. "I'm already on my way."

* * *

Hazel tried to imagine the look on Melania's face if she got promoted. That would make her day. Sometimes she got so sick of that woman constantly brining her down, constantly reminding her that the only boy who was good enough for her was Tony Trimble, the maintenance man.

"Have you done something with your hair?" Teddy asked from the doorway, pulling Hazel from her thoughts.

"Err, yes," she said, thrilled that he'd noticed. She had tried Skeekeazy's Hair Potion this morning to tame the frizzy mess that was her hair. And it had worked better than she had imagined. Her hair, for the first time ever, was sleek and shiny. As pretty as Victoire Weasley's.

"It looks nice," he said, before disappearing into the corridor.

She sat in her chair for a moment longer, staring at the photograph of Victoire on his desk.

"You're a foolish girl," she whispered. "You could have had Teddy Lupin forever, but you left. Why would you do that?"

The girl in the picture didn't answer. She merely flipped her perfect hair and smiled her perfect smile.

She wondered what it would be like to be Victoire Weasley, even just for a day. To be beautiful and adored by everyone. To have a famous family and a quarter- Veela mother. Surely a girl like that had no worries. Surely a girl like that was sure of everything.

* * *

Victoire was locked out of her flat. Her stupid, crummy new flat. She'd left the key inside. Along with her wand.

_I'm so stupid_, she thought, panicking slightly. _What am I gonna do?_

"Need some help, neighbor?" a voice said from behind her.

An awfully familiar voice.

She turned around. Sure enough, there he was. The boy from the catering company. The smirking git named Lawson.

This was really not her day.

* * *

_Dear Teddy,_

_I'm sure why I'm even writing you this letter. I'm sure I'll never send it. But I suppose in case I ever do, I want to say that I'm sorry I left without telling you. You deserved better than that, Teddy. You deserve the best, always. You deserve better than me. I wasn't sure that I wanted to be with you forever and you deserve a girl who loves you with her whole heart. A girl who knows without a doubt that she wants to spend the rest of her life with you. I couldn't give you any of that. And I'm so, so sorry._

_But I want you to know that I miss you. I truly do. It isn't easy, being here alone. You were the one person who was always there for me and it's strange to think that you no longer are. Still, this is what I want. I hope you understand, but I'm sure you won't._

_Love always,_

_Victoire_

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

"My door's locked," Victoire grumbled in explanation. "And I left my key and wand inside."

"That wasn't too smart," Lawson said.

She was really, really not in the mood to deal with him. He was looking at her with that same smug expression that she was now fairly certain was a permanent part of his face.

She glared at him. "If you're not going to help," she said through gritted teeth, "then please leave."

"Who said I wasn't gonna help?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

She stepped aside and gestured to her door with a swoop of her hand. "Go ahead then," she said.

"Do you happen to have a credit card?" he asked.

"No!" she snapped. "What the hell do you need one for? I asked you to unlock my door, not pick me up something at the store!"

"I need to the pick the lock. Don't bite my head off," he said calmly. "How about a bobby pin?"

"Aren't you a wizard?" she growled. "Can't you go back to your flat and get your wand? This whole problem can be solved easily enough with Alohomora."

"Sorry," he said. "But I lent my wand to a friend. His broke and he needs it for his job until he can afford to buy a new one."

"You lent your wand?" Victoire asked, stunned. "But how will you survive without it?"

Lawson rolled his eyes. "Feeling a bit dramatic today, are we?" he asked. "I think I can manage without it."

She reached up into her hair, feeling around for a bobby pin. Wordlessly, she handed it to him.

"Thanks," he replied, snapping it in half.

"Hey!"

"Do you want to get back inside your apartment or not?" he asked.

Grumbling to herself, she leaned back against the wall – nowhere near the mysterious brown stain she'd been eying since she first moved in – and watched as he inserted the two pieces of the pin into the keyhole and wiggled them around. It looked to be easy enough, but the way his eyebrows were knit together in extreme concentration told Victoire that was not the case.

"I haven't done this in a while," Lawson said. "I guess I'm a little rusty."

Victoire sighed. "I don't have all day."

"Well, you're a real treat, aren't you?" he asked. "I'm doing you a favor, sweetheart. You shouldn't be rude."

"Don't call me sweetheart."

"Sorry, babe."

She let out a heavy sigh. "Is the door unlocked yet?"

"I think so," he said, turning the knob. The door swung open, revealing the inside of Victoire's (not yet furnished) flat.

"There you go," he said, stepping aside.

"Thanks," she muttered, brushing past him and stepping inside.

"My pleasure," he said.

She began to close the door, but he stuck his foot out and stopped it. She immediately swung it back open, glaring at him. "What now?" she hissed.

"Since we work at the same place," he said. "I was thinking it would be best if you rode the subway with me, at least to until you get more familiar with the city."

"Erm, no thanks. I think I'll be Apparating."

He laughed, an obnoxious, mocking laugh that made her blood boil.

"Is something funny?" she asked, hoping he noticed from the tone of her voice that she had reached the limit of her patience with him.

"How could you not know the Apparition law in New York?" he asked, a look of disbelief on his face. "You decided to move here. Didn't it occur to you to read up on these types of things?"

"I'm not much of a reader," she muttered. "Now get to your point. What's the law?"

"The law," he began dramatically, "is that Apparition is illegal on the entire island of Manhattan."

She was sure she had heard him wrong. "Excuse me?"

"_Illegal_," he repeated, enunciating each syllable slowly and loudly, as if she was she was hard of hearing or English was her third language

"Why in the world is that the law?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Manhattan's a crowded place. It became too much of a risk. Wizards and witches were constantly being spotted my appearing out of thin air by muggles. So they figured that it wasn't that necessary; there are plenty of transportation options in this city."

Victoire couldn't believe her ears. "How is that possible? If that happened in England, nobody would stand for that."

He shrugged. "I read a book a few months ago about the difference between wizards in Europe and in America. It talked about how the wizarding community in America is much more integrated into the muggle world. We don't live in separate communities and we use muggle technology much more than you guys do. Maybe that's why I gave away my wand so easily. I'm used to living in both worlds. You on the other hand… obviously aren't."

"You read a book?" Victoire asked in disbelief.

He rolled his eyes. "That's what you got out of what I just said? Really?"

"Whatever," she said. "I can ride the subway on my own. I don't need a babysitter."

She attempted to close the door again, but by now his entire body was in her doorway. "Please leave," she said through gritted teeth.

"Alright," he said, taking a step back. "See you lat—"

She slammed the door in his face.

_What an arse_, she thought, as she leaned up against her door. _And he's probably a thief or something too. Why else would he be so good at picking locks?_

She glanced down at her watch. It was almost midnight. She thought about going to bed, but she realized that she wasn't even tired. Which was strange. She had just spent the entire evening doing an actual job for the first time in her life. She had figured she would be exhausted. Instead, she felt more awake than ever. Looking around, she decided now would be a perfect time to start redecorating this god-awful flat. And she would start by taking down the yellow paisley wallpaper that should have never, ever been created, let alone actually used. She took a step closer to the wall, examining it. Something told her that it had not always been yellow.

_Gross_, she thought, reaching for her wand.

* * *

_Dear Teddy,_

_So here I am, writing you another letter that I'll never send. I found a job and a flat. Can you imagine me in the real world? Working to support myself. Paying rent. Buying my own food. I guess I should learn how to cook. The guy who lives across the hall (and happens to be the dishwasher at the catering company I work for) is a complete arse. I cannot stand him. Seriously, he makes me realize how much of a gentleman you are. Speaking of you, how are you doing? Have you forgotten me yet? Moved on? I hope so. _

_I'd write more, but it's pretty pointless, isn't it? You're never going to get this letter. And I'll be late for work. Which would be my luck, wouldn't it? Getting fired on my second day. Maybe I'll write again. Actually scratch that, I'm sure I'll write again. It's lonely here. Lonelier than I thought it would be. I only really know one person and I certainly don't want to talk to him._

_Love, _

_Victoire_

* * *

Melania was having an excellent day. Simply the best. In fact, if you asked her how she was doing, she would have said she was doing fantastic, thank you very much. She'd probably even ask how you were doing, and she'd be genuinely be glad when you said you were doing just fine, even if you were the homeless man who sat outside the bakery that she stopped at every morning for coffee and a croissant who smelled like stale cigarettes and unwashed…everything. She'd probably even offer you half of her croissant and not cringe when your dirty hands brushed against her brand new coat. Yes, indeed, she was having an excellent day.

"You look cheerful this morning," Hazel commented, sitting down next to her.

"I _am_ cheerful this morning," Melania replied. "In fact, I am more than cheerful. I am ecstatic."

"Oh?"

"Would you like to hear the cause of this newfound happiness, Hazel?"

"Erm, yes?"

"I am in love," she announced dramatically.

"In love?" Hazel asked. "With who?"

"With who? I'll tell you with who. I am in love with the best man in the world."

"Well, that was specific."

"His name is Cadmus Pembroke and he works in the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

Hazel's eyebrows shot up in the air. "Isn't he like 25?"

"No, dear, he's 28."

"Isn't that a little too young for you? You're 45, Melania."

Melania let out a heavy sigh, swiveling around in her chair so that she was directly facing her younger peer.

"Hazel, darling," she exclaimed, "age is nothing but a number!"

"Well, yes," said Hazel. "But still, it just seems like –"

"Perhaps," Melania continued, cutting her off, "you think a man has handsome and young as he couldn't possibly be interested in a woman like me. Do you think I'm past my prime, Hazel?"

"No, no, of course not," Hazel stammered. "I just think –"

"You know, back in my Hogwarts days, I was quite the catch. Boys were always pursuing me, asking me on dates to Hogsmeade, trying to steal kisses between classes. And after I graduated and came to work here, there was one man in particular who seemed desperate for my affections. But I was young and foolish, Hazel. I played hard-to-get and eventually he found someone else. Shattered my heart, that did. I think that's why I never married. He was the only man I could see myself with, the only man I ever wanted to marry. Until now. Cadmus makes me feel young again, Hazel. He makes me feel alive. He's made me realize that I don't have to give up on love. That you're never too old to find _the one_.

* * *

_Always so dramatic_, Hazel thought to herself.

Still, there was something rather heartbreaking about Melania's story. If Melania Muldoon had taught her anything over the past year of working by her side, it was that Hazel knew she didn't want to spend her life alone. She wanted to find _the one._

"I hope things work out between the two of you," she said.

Melania smiled, the most sincere smile Hazel had ever seen cross the woman's blood red lips.

"I hope so too."

* * *

When Melania was as happy as she currently was, she wanted the people around her to be happy as well. Which was why, instead of heading straight home after work, she was looking for Tony Trimble. Hazel Denholm deserved to be happy. She deserved someone who loved her. And Melania was going to make that happen.

"Ah, there you are," she said, peering into the men's bathroom on the third floor."Someone told me I'd find you in here."

Tony, who had been washing his hands at the sink, spun around, startled.

"M-ms. M-m-muldoon. W-what are you doing in h-here?"

"I needed to speak to you," she said, her heels click-clacking on the tiled floor as she crossed the room. She wrinkled her nose. "It smells awful in here, Tony. I suggest you speak to your boss about maybe putting some sort of air freshener in here."

Tony looked confused.

"Of course, that's not what I wanted to talk about. I'm actually here to speak to you about Hazel."

"H-hazel?"

"Yes, dear," she said, nodding. "I think she likes you."

This was a lie of course, but sometimes one had to tell lies to do good.

"R-r-really?" he asked, his eyes widening. "I-I thought she l-liked Lupin."

"Well, she'd infatuated with him, of course. But what girl her age wouldn't be? She's young and silly and doesn't know what she wants."

"A-and you're s-saying she wants me?"

"You're reliable, dear. The kind of boy a girl can depend on. You'd be good for her."

"S-so w-what should I do?"

Melania took out her wand and gave it a wave. A bouquet of roses appeared on the ground in front of her. She leaned down and picked them up. "I'd start by giving her these."

Tony took the flowers from her, a look of uncertainty on his face.

"Now hurry, dear. I think you should be able to catch her before she leaves for the day.

She watched him lumber away, feeling good about herself. Tony was a bit dense, yes. But he had a good heart. He'd treat Hazel right. And Melania cared about Hazel's happiness more than she herself even realized.

* * *

Hazel was just about to leave for the day when Teddy approached the reception desk.

"Hey," he said, leaning up against it and smiling at her. "Guess what?"

She set down her purse. "What?"

"I talked to Mr. Punjab about your idea for the Department."

"Oh?"

"Yup," Teddy replied. "And you know what he said?"

"That it was awful?"

He chuckled. "Come on, Hazel. Give yourself some credit. He said it was brilliant. He'd be an idiot not to."

"Really?" she asked. "Oh my god, Teddy, that's great!"

"That's not all," he continued. "He said he'd like to meet with you to discuss things further. _And_ he told me that if you have other ideas as good as this one there's a good chance he'll promote you."

Hazel squealed, leaning over the desk and throwing her arms around his neck. He hugged her back for a moment and then pulled back slightly, face inches from hers.

Hazel wasn't sure who closed the gap between the two of them, but one of them did. Or maybe both of them did. Either way, in an instant they were kissing. The edge of the desk was digging in to her midsection, but she didn't care. This was happening. This was actually happening.

* * *

Tony stepped out of the lift, clutching the bouquet of roses in his sweaty hand. He squared his shoulders and prepared himself to march up to the reception desk and hand her the flowers.

_You can do this_, he told himself. _You can do this._

He took a step forward and then stopped. Teddy Lupin was approaching the desk. _Great._ Tony stood there, watching as they talked for a moment. Whatever he was telling her was obviously good news, judging by the expression on her face. And the way she threw her arms around his neck. He shifted uncomfortably. This had been such a bad idea. Why had he let Melania talk him into this?

And then they were kissing. Not a friendly peck either, but full-on snogging.

He sighed heavily, tossing the roses in the nearby bin. Then, turning, he got back onto the lift. And he went home.

* * *

**Please, please review. I really appreciate them!**


	4. Chapter 4

Hazel had never been more nervous in her entire life. Teddy Lupin was coming to her flat. That evening. To take her on a date. She'd never been on a date in her life. Not unless she counted that time Myron Snell had held her hand at a party in the Hufflepuff common room for about five minutes, left to go get her some punch, and then never came back. Which she didn't. And now she was having her first date with Teddy Lupin! It was unbelievable.

There was a knock on her door. Her heart began to race. She smoothed her hair, glancing anxiously in the mirror, and then hurried to open it.

"Hey, Hazel," Teddy said, smiling at her.

He was as handsome as ever, clutching a bouquet of flowers. He handed them to her.

"You look beautiful," he told her.

"Thanks," she replied, feeling her face heat up. "So do you."

He chuckled.

"I mean," she said hurriedly, "you look handsome."

_Stupid, stupid_, she thought. Why was she suddenly unable to behave like a normal human being? There was nothing to be nervous about. It was only Teddy. They'd had plenty of conversations before during which she managed not to make a complete fool out of herself.

"Thanks," he said, holding out his hand. "Shall we?"

"Erm, yeah," she said. "Let me just go put these flowers in a vase."

She hurried into her kitchen, tripping over her own feet in the process, but catching herself before she landed right on her bum.

"You alright?" Teddy called from the doorway.

"Fine, fine," she called back.

_Please_, she thought, _if there is a higher power out there, please help me get through this date in one piece._

* * *

Victoire just wanted to get through the rest of the evening in one piece. The catering company she worked for, though a Wizarding company, sometimes still catered muggle events (though of course they had to do everything without any magic). Tonight, they happened to be catering a birthday party thrown by some extremely rich couple for their son's twenty-first birthday. The son, whose name was Carter Remington III, went to Harvard (a fact that seemed to be brought by his parents on every occasion possible). The party was filled with his snobby, frat boy friends who seemed to have no qualms with openly staring at Victoire's breasts, and even on occasion groping her "on accident."

She quickly darted through the crowd, holding a tray of hors d'oeuvres. She had explicit instructions to serve the guests in the library. Of course, as luck would have it, she slammed right into someone who had stepped in front of her at the last minute. The person's drink spilled all over her, soaking through her uniform.

"Shit," a male voice said. "I'm sorry."

She glanced up. The guy standing in front of her was none other than the birthday boy himself, Carter Remington III. She sighed, bracing herself for the inevitable grope. It had already happened several times that night with his drunken friends as the perpetrators. One of them would "accidently" spill their drink down her front and then "clean it up" by rubbing his hands all over her chest.

"I'm so sorry," he said again. "I'll go find you a towel. Or some napkins." He looked around frantically, his hands –to her surprise- staying at his side.

"It's fine," she said. "There are towels in the kitchen."

"Let me go get one for you," he said.

"That's really not necessary."

"Yes it is," he insisted. "I bumped in to you. My mom always tells me that I need to learn to look where I'm going. Maybe I should start listening to her."

"Here," he said, taking the ruined tray of appetizers from her. "I'll take this back for you. You just find a seat, okay?"

She sat down hesitatingly, sure that her boss would appear at any moment and fire her for not doing her job.

A few minutes later, Carter Remington III reappeared, carrying a towel and a tray filled with fresh appetizers.

"Here," he said, handing her the towel and setting the tray down on a table.

She accepted it. "Thanks."

Carter Remington III sat down next to her as she cleaned herself up.

"So," he said, "what's your name?"

"Victoire," she replied.

"Ah," he said. "A French name."

"Yes, my mum's French."

"But you're English," he said. "So what brings you to New York?"

She shrugged. "I've just always wanted to live here." She stood up, picking up the tray. "I've got to get back to work," she said.

"I'm Carter, by the way," he told her.

"I know," she said.

He grinned at her. He had perfect teeth, that was the first thing she noticed. Maybe even more perfect than Teddy's teeth, if that was possible.

"Do you want to go out with me sometime, Victoire?" he asked.

"Oh," she said, surprised. "Erm…"

_Say yes, _a voice inside her head implored. _Look at how handsome he is!_

It was true. He was very handsome. With chocolate brown eyes that twinkled when she smiled and crinkled at the corners. And that hair, it was so wavy and shiny. She wanted to run her hands through it.

_And he's nice_, the voice added. _He's not the preppy snob you pegged him as._

She smiled at him. "I'd love to."

* * *

_Dear Teddy,_

_Remember that time we got really, really drunk? It was the summer before my seventh year and we took all those bottles of firewhiskey down to the beach with us. We drank way too much and we built really bad sandcastles and we ran around in the ocean and we snogged all night. I don't know what made me think of that. But it was really fun. I remember being sure that I would love you forever. I thought that if we could have that much fun all the time, then there was no way that we wouldn't be happy together forever. Of course, that was the problem wasn't it? We didn't always have that much fun…_

_Anyway, I'm going on a date. My first date with someone that isn't you. I probably shouldn't tell you that, but it's not like I'm ever going to send this letter anyway. I hope we have fun, as much fun as you and I used to have. I hope I don't think too much about you. I hope I fall in love. I hope I forget about you. I hope you forget about me._

_Love, Victoire_

* * *

Lawson Mills approached Victoire Weasley after the party was over. She was standing outside the ritzy apartment building where the Remington's lived.

"Hey," he said. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting for a cab," she replied stiffly, not looking at him.

"Why don't you just take the subway?"

"I don't like riding it alone at night," she said, still staring straight ahead.

"So you're wasting all this money on a cab every night? That's ridiculous."

Finally she turned, shooting him an icy glare. "It's not really you're concern."

"I could ride with you," he offered. "It would save you a lot of money."

He saw her bite her lip, and he knew she was considering it. "Fine," she said. "Let's go."

He grinned. "Great."

* * *

Hazel lay in bed that night, feeling quite pleased with herself. Her date with Teddy had been a complete success. She had not made a complete fool of herself and alienated him forever. In fact, he had asked her on another date! And kissed her outside the door of her flat. And told her again that she looked beautiful.

She smiled giddily and closed her eyes. She dreamt that it was her wedding day. She looked beautiful in her wedding dress and Teddy looked handsome in his tuxedo. Victoire Weasley showed up and begged him to take her back, but he just laughed and said that he was in love with Hazel Denholm. Then Victoire cried and Hazel didn't even notice; she was too busy snogging Teddy. It was a wonderful dream.

* * *

"So, I saw you talking to Carter," Lawson said.

Victoire sneered at him. "You're on a first name basis with him, are you?"

"As a matter of fact, I am," he said. "I've known him since I was a little kid. My mom used to work for his family. We played together all the time."

"Well, I'm going on a date with him," she said, staring out the window of subway.

"Mmm," Lawson murmured.

She turned to look at him. "I suppose you're going to tell me that's a bad idea, right? Carter's actually a stuck-up arse and I can do better, right?"

Lawson smirked. "Actually, no. Carter's a great guy. You'd be hard-pressed to find someone nicer than him."

"Oh," she said, feeling relieved. That meant that Carter hadn't just been putting on an act with her. He really was a nice bloke.

"So your mum worked for his famliy?" she said. "Is she a muggle?"

Lawson looked at her, a strange expression on his face. As if he was surprised that she making conversation with him. Then again, that was pretty surprising.

"Yeah," he said. "She is. My dad was a wizard though. Not that I actually remember him. The piece shit left when I was about two. Told my mom he was gonna go rent a tux so they could finally get married and then never came back."

"That's horrible."

He shrugged. "Whatever, we're better off without him."

"I suppose so."

"Since my mom had to raise me by herself, I was home alone a lot. She had two jobs. That's why I got so good at picking locks. I was always losing my house key, leaving it at school or on the subway or something."

_So he isn't actually a thief_, Victoire thought to herself.

* * *

Teddy smiled at Hazel as he got on to the lift Monday morning.

"Good morning, Hazel" he said.

"Good morning, Teddy," she replied.

It felt a little strange, dating someone who wasn't Vic. But Vic was gone. And Hazel was here. And he couldn't spend his life moping around. So why not give this relationship a shot?

* * *

**This chapter's not very good, sorry about that.**


	5. Chapter 5

Carter Remington III was a sweetheart. This fact had become highly evident to Victoire by the time their first date had ended. He held open doors for her, listened when she talked, and walked her back to her apartment afterward, kissing her on the cheek and blushing when he told her that he'd like to see her again. She had been relieved to discover that Carter had been raised so well. After all, the only other boy she had ever dated was Teddy Lupin, who had always treated her wonderfully and she was glad that she had found someone who could treat her just as well as he had.

Over the past two weeks, she and Carter had gone out three times and had one unplanned run-in at Central Park, where Carter was walking his dog, a slobbery golden retriever named Max. So far though, nothing had happened between them except a bit of kissing. Victoire wasn't ready to take things any farther yet and Carter, thankfully, seemed to respect that.

"I just want to take things slow," she had told him, after he had kissed her goodnight on their third date. "So I'm not going to invite you inside."

He nodded. "Slow is good," he said, slipping his arms around her waist and kissing her again. "I can do slow."

"You sure?" she asked, tilting her head up and looking into his chocolate-brown eyes. She was relieved to see that they looked sincere.

"Yes," he said. "I really like you, Victoire. I don't want to mess this up."

* * *

Hazel and Teddy were not taking things very slow. He had walked her back to her flat after their third date and she had nervously invited him in for a cup of tea. But when she had tried to walk into the kitchen to actually make the tea, he had grabbed her wrist and tugged her back. She spun around, slamming against the solid wall that was his chest. Their lips immediately met and they began kissing each other hungrily, tongues tangling as they stumbled backwards, hands fumbling at each other's clothes. They tumbled onto the couch and continued to snog heatedly. She could feel his breath hot on her neck as he slipped off her dress and tossed it aside. She lay beneath him, feeling his weight pressing against her, and stared up at him. His hand moved upward from her hip, trailing along her stomach and coming to a stop on her breast. He looked down at her, gauging her response and she gave a small nod. He removed her bra easily and she was once again reminded just how much more experienced he was than her. Before him, she had been a nineteen year old girl who had never even been kissed. It seemed so improbable for her, Hazel Denholm, to be lying here beneath Teddy Lupin in only her panties, to feel his heart beating against her chest, to look up at him and see him looking down at her, desire in his eyes.

"Hazel," he whispered. "Are you sure about this?"

She nodded slowly. "Yes," she murmured, feeling his fingers slip under the waistband of her underwear. "Yes, Teddy. I'm sure."

"I'll be gentle," he said quietly, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Hazel stared up at the ceiling as it happened, the overhead light shining brightly into her eyes. She let out a small gasp and dark spots danced across her vision. Then she simply closed her eyes. And let him take her to that place she'd never been. That place that was only for the two of them. That place where childhood innocence disappeared. That place where two people gave themselves to each other, hoping that what they felt would last, but not knowing for sure, because nothing in life is for sure and nothing—not even the best things—last forever. But for now they were both young, with feelings stirring inside them, and they had tonight and the night after that and as many nights as the universe saw fit. So, in that moment, she let him take her to that place. And she didn't worry about what came next.

* * *

Afterwards, Teddy gazed down at Hazel as she slept. She looked so young, so innocent, lying there wrapped in her blanket, breathing slowly. He leaned over and pressed a kiss against the smooth skin of her bare shoulder.

How strange it was, he thought, to be lying there with a girl that wasn't Victoire. Though he wished it wouldn't, his mind wandered away, out of that London flat, across the Atlantic and into New York City. What was she doing now? Had she moved on like he had? Did she miss him? Did she dream about him? Did she regret what she had done? Would she ever come back? Would she ever explain why she had taken off without a word? Why she had stopped loving him?

He shook his head and turned his attention back to Hazel. Victoire was gone. Hazel was here in his arms. His grandmother had always taught him that living in the past would never prove to be anything but futile. "We can't change what has already happened," she would tell him. "We can't bring back those who have been taken from us or even those who chose to leave. We can only move forward, learning from the past but embracing the future."

Victoire had chosen to leave. She was his past now. And perhaps Hazel was his future. And perhaps not. But one thing was for certain. He'd never be able to embrace his future if he kept dwelling on the life he might have had if Victoire had chosen to stay. So he pushed all thoughts of the blonde-haired beauty that had captivated him for years out of his head.

_Goodbye, Victoire._

* * *

The old man sitting across from Victoire on the subway had no teeth. It was very unsettling, she thought, being leered at by a toothless old man. The man's gaze dropped to her chest and his gummy grin grew wider. She scooted a bit closer to Lawson, who smirked down at her. "Just can't stay away from me, can you, sweetheart?"

"Shut up," she muttered.

The subway lurched to a stop and Victoire clutched the edge of her seat, annoyed that riding on this thing still freaked her out. She hated being the only one who reacted to the bumps and screeches. All around her, people stared straight ahead with blank expressions on their faces or down at their newspapers or phones like the rest of the world didn't exist. Nobody engaged in conversation. Nobody cracked a smile. Nobody reacted to anything.

A young woman, probably only a year or two older than Victoire came and sat down in the empty seat beside Lawson. He flashed a charming smile in her direction, but she ducked her head and stared at her shoes, clutching her purse tightly against her chest.

Victoire rolled her eyes, watching as Lawson repeatedly attempted to engage the girl in conversation. With every flirty pick-up line he threw in her direction, she seemed to grow more and more annoyed. Of course, this only made Lawson try harder. He wasn't the type of guy that was used to rejection, especially not from pretty girls wearing low-cut tops and too much makeup.

Finally the girl seemed to lose any remaining shred of patience that she might have once possessed. She looked up from the floor, looking Lawson straight in the eyes. "Stop flirting with me," she snapped. "I'm not interested." She glanced over at Victoire. "And it's obviously pissing your girlfriend off."

Victoire's mouth dropped open. "I am _not_ his girlfriend!" she replied indignantly.

The girl's expression turned sympathetic. "Oh, honey," she murmured, shaking her head slowly.

"What?" Victoire asked.

"You must have it real bad for this boy then," she said, "because you've been shooting daggers at me with your eyes for the past ten minutes."

Lawson let out a howl of laughter. "Aw, Vic, I knew you had a thing for me. Do you want to tell Carter or should I?"

She glared at him. "Shut up, Lawson."

The girl stood up. "This is my stop," she said. "I hope you two work things out."

Victoire couldn't believe that this random stranger on the subway had tried to imply that she had some sort of crush on Lawson Mills. How ridiculous! I should hope that I have better taste than that, she thought.

"Well, well, well, speak of the devil," Lawson murmured.

Victoire looked up. Carter Remington III had just stepped into their subway car. Dressed in his expensive, preppy attire, he looked ridiculously out of place, the equivalent of a prince who had wandered into a factory or workhouse. Lawson waved him over and he immediately sat down in the seat that the girl had vacated.

"What are you doing on the subway, man?" Lawson asked. "You might catch a case of poor from us peasants. Did your BMW get stolen or something?"

Carter rolled his eyes. "Just slumming it today, I guess," he replied.

"Where you headed?" Lawson asked.

"I could ask you the same thing," Carter said. "What are you doing on the subway with my girl?"

Victoire felt her face heat up. She and Carter hadn't exactly defined their relationship yet. They were still pretty casual. After only three dates, they hadn't talked about becoming exclusive. They certainly weren't boyfriend and girlfriend.

"We're just headed home," she cut in. "We had a catering thing this morning."

"Ah," he said, nodding.

"So, where are you headed?" Lawson asked again, taking in his friend's appearance with a bemused expression on his face. Button down shirt. Ironed dress pants. Blazer complete with a plaid handkerchief poking out of the pocket. Leather shoes. Gold watch. "The yacht club in Dubai?"

"Haha, very funny," Carter replied. "I'm actually on my way to have lunch with my father."

"Well, that explains it," Lawson said.

"Explains what?" Carter asked.

"Why you're riding the subway," he replied. "You know it will piss him off."

"So you're saying that I enjoy pissing off my father?" Carter asked. "That's ridiculous, Lawson."

"Is it?" Lawson asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Because it actually seems to be pretty characteristic of you. Like the time you told him you wanted to go to Yale instead of Harvard, just to see the look on his face. Or the time you threw that huge party in the penthouse during senior year. Or the time you told him that you didn't want to take over the family business because you'd rather become a _public defender_ instead."

Carter just rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to dignify any of this with a response, Lawson."

"And I almost forgot," Lawson continued, completely ignoring him, "about the fact that you dated Chastity Burbank for an entire year."

Chastity Burbank. Why did that name sound so familiar? Victoire wracked her brain, but came up blank.

"Fine," Carter said. "So I'm not my dad's biggest fan. But can you blame me? That son of a bitch is the most goddamn cold, selfish person I've ever met."

Lawson grew silent, obviously smart enough to realize he'd hit a nerve and should probably shut up.

"Sometimes I wish he and Mom would just go ahead and divorce," Carter continued. "I mean, I'm out of the house. They don't have to stay together for my sake anymore. I wish he'd fucking man up and just leave. He's a goddamn coward, cheating on her with every bimbo who will look his way, instead of just ending things between them. And she knows, that the fucking worst part about it. She's knows, but she won't ever say anything. They're both goddamn cowards."

Victoire had never heard Carter this upset before. His life had always seemed so put together, perfect even. How could someone so nice have so much anger bottled up inside him?

"Can you guys come with me?" he asked suddenly.

"Come with you?" Lawson asked. "To lunch with your dad?"

Carter nodded. "Please. You know how much I hate being alone with him."

"Carter, your dad hates me," Lawson said.

"Exactly," Carter said. "He won't spend the entire time nagging me about not living up to his expectations if you're around."

"So you expect me to sit around and let your dad tell me what a useless piece of shit I am for an entire meal," Lawson said, "just so he leaves you alone."

"He's never called you a useless piece of shit, Lawson."

"Not to my face," Lawson muttered, "but he's certainly implied it."

"Well, Victoire will be there too," Carter said. "So he might leave us both alone for a bit."

"Fine," Lawson said. "I'll go." He turned to look at Victoire. "What about you, Vic. You ready to meet Carter Remington II, the most powerful attorney in all of Manhattan?"

"Sure," she said nervously.

_How bad could he be, really?_

* * *

Tony Trimble sat alone, perched on the edge of the fountain in the Ministry Atrium, nibbling on his stale bologna sandwich. He sometimes wished he had enough money to buy a sandwich from the Ministry Munchies cafe every day, the freshly made ones that came on croissant rolls. But he was just the maintenance man and money was tight. Besides, at that moment he wasn't really thinking about what he was eating. He was too busy watching Teddy and Hazel. They were sitting at one of the tables set up near the fountain, laughing and staring into each other's eyes as they ate their expensive sandwiches. They had even splurged on the giant chocolate chip cookies that always made Tony's mouth water when he walked by.

He sighed. It didn't make any sense. What interest could Teddy Lupin possibly have in Hazel Denholm? Frumpy, awkward Hazel Denholm. Not that she was particularly frumpy anymore. It was amazing what a set of well-fitting robes and some anti-frizz cream could accomplish. But even with her new makeover, she was nothing special. She was pretty, but in an average sort of way. She was not stunningly beautiful like Victoire Weasley. She was still awkward, always shuffling her feet when she walked and barely making eye contact when strangers spoke to her. A few months ago, Teddy Lupin had barely known her name. Surely he considered her to be nothing more than some sort of rebound? Somebody to pass the time with until he found someone more suitable, someone more like Victoire.

It just wasn't fair. There was no way Teddy liked Hazel as much as Tony did—_loved _Hazel as much as Tony did. Had he ever noticed the way she bit her fingernails when she got nervous? Did he know that her favorite color was purple? Did he know that she desperately wanted to go to Italy or that she hated pistachio ice cream? Was he aware that she had cried for three days straight when her cat had died or that she had once fallen asleep on top of the astronomy tower after sneaking out to see a solar eclipse, resulting in a week of detention?

Tony had first laid eyes on Hazel Denholm when she was a first year at Hogwarts. He had been in his second year and he remembered watching her timidly make her way up to be sorted. She was so tiny, with huge brown eyes and frizzy hair that seemed much too big for the rest of her. There was something about her that he had liked immediately; one might even say that it was love at first sight. He had clapped excitedly when she was sorted into Hufflepuff and vowed to try to get to know her better. They never became more than casual acquaintances though. Tony was much too shy to ever make a move. And Hazel was the type of girl who always longed to be popular. She had no interest in befriending someone like Tony Trimble. So he simply watched her from afar.

He still remembered one occurrence very vividly, like it had happened only the week before. Hazel had been in her fourth year and he in his fifth. She had walked into the library, where he was already sitting, and accidently bumped into Victoire Weasley, who had been a third year at that time. Though she was a year younger, Victoire was ten times more popular than Hazel could have ever hoped to be. She was surrounded by an entourage of people that included Teddy Lupin (a fifth year like Tony, only he was a Gryffindor instead of a Hufflepuff). Teddy and Victoire weren't dating back then, but they had been friends for her entire life. Victoire had stuck her nose up in the air and told Hazel to watch where she was going. Everyone around her had laughed, expect Teddy Lupin. But he hadn't said anything either, hadn't defended the poor, unpopular girl standing there, looking like she was on the verge of tears.

Tony watched as Hazel stood up and said something to Teddy. He flashed her a charming smile and planted a kiss on her cheek before she turned to leave. Tony watched her go, disappearing around the corner. Then he stood up and squared his shoulders. He was going to do it. He was going to confront Teddy Lupin. He needed to know that Teddy's intentions were sincere and that he wasn't just messing her about. Hazel deserved the best. She deserved all the love a man could possibly give her.

"E-excuse me," he said, approaching Teddy's table. "I n-need to t-talk to you, L-lupin."

Teddy looked up and smiled politely, gesturing to the chair that Hazel had vacated only moments before. "Sure," he said agreeably. "It's Toby, right?"

"T-tony," he corrected, taking a seat.

"Right," Teddy said, leaning back in his chair. "Sorry." He glanced down at his watch. "What was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Y-your intentions t-toward Hazel," Tony blurted out.

Teddy's eye narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I n-need to know th-that you're n-not using h-her."

"Using her?" Teddy repeated the words slowly, his nose wrinkling in distaste. "Why the hell would you think I'm using her?"

"B-b-because you're on th-the r-rebound," Tony stammered, shrinking back in his seat.

"Well, you can stop worrying, Toby," Teddy said, standing up. "I really like Hazel. My intentions are nothing but honorable."

"O-okay," he muttered, not sure he really believed him. "I'm g-glad."

Teddy turned to leave, but Tony wasn't quite finished. "W-wait!" he called out. "I have one m-m-more question."

Teddy glanced over his shoulder. "What?" he said, his tone dismissive.

"W-what's Hazel's favorite c-color?" Tony asked.

"Purple," Teddy replied matter-of-factly.

And then he was gone.

* * *

**I don't know if anyone still cares about this story, but I thought I'd update anyway. If you are reading it, please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

Carter Remington II had a very imposing presence. Victoire could tell immediately that he was the kind of man that demanded respect from others, who liked things done his way, and who never took no for an answer.

He was sitting alone at his table when she, Lawson, and Carter walked into the restaurant, glancing down at his watch impatiently as he waited. For a fifty year old, he was still very handsome, despite his graying hair and lined forehead. Victoire noticed that he and his son looked very much alike, with the same dark brown eyes, wavy hair, and charming smile (which Mr. Remington flashed at the young female waitress who refilled his glass).

He looked up when Carter approached the table first. "There you are," he said. "I was beginning to think you had forgotten that…" He trailed off, looking past his son, his eyes locking on Lawson and Victoire. "Lawson," he said coolly. "What a… pleasant surprise."

"Hey, Mr. R.," Lawson replied, smirking slightly. "What's up?"

"Just the usual, Lawson," Mr. Remington replied, gesturing for them to sit down. "How's your mother?"

"She's doing well," Lawson said, taking his seat. "She misses you."

"Well, tell her if she ever wants her job back, she can have it. Our new maid is practically incompetent. Can hardly speak English either."

"I'll be sure to tell her," Lawson said, picking up his menu and opening it up.

Mr. Remington redirected his gaze to Victoire. "Neither of you boys have introduced me to your charming little friend," he said, holding out his hand for her to shake. "Carter Remington II," he said. "It's lovely to meet you."

"Victoire Weasley," she replied nervously, as he gripped her hand tightly. "It's nice to meet you too, Mr. Remington."

"I've been seeing Victoire for a few weeks now, Dad," Carter said, casually draping his arm over the back of her chair. "She recently moved here from England and now works with Lawson at the catering company. I met her at my birthday party."

Mr. Remington opened his mouth to reply, but they were interrupted by the waitress who appeared at that moment to take their orders. Victoire glanced down at the menu for the first time, immediately noticing how expensive everything was. She glanced up worriedly. Would everyone be expected to pay for their own meal? There was no way she could afford any of this.

"I'll be paying for everyone," Mr. Remington announced, as if he had just read her mind. "So order anything you like."

She breathed a sigh of relief, and ordered a relatively inexpensive item, not wanting to take advantage of his generosity.

After they had all ordered, Mr. Remington turned back to her. "So, you work at a catering company?" he asked. "Is that just a temporary thing? Are you here to attend college in the fall?"

She shifted uncomfortable in her seat. Witches and wizards didn't attend college, but it wasn't like she could tell him that. "Er, no," she finally said. "I plan to work there for a while. I'm not attending college."

He shot her a tight-lipped smile and glanced at Lawson. "Well, that's nice," he said. "Perhaps the two of you can work there until you're old enough to retire."

Carter groaned. "Dad!"

"What?" his father replied. "I just don't like to see the youth of today wasting their potential. Now I don't know much about your little girlfriend, but I do know Lawson."

"Unfortunately," Lawson muttered under his breath, too quietly for Mr. Remington to hear.

"And Lawson is an extremely intelligent boy," he continued. "Lazy and undisciplined, yes. But very intelligent. There was no reason for him not to attend college. Money wasn't an issue. I offered to pay for his education myself."

Lawson was, of course, a wizard. He couldn't very well go and attend some muggle university. But Victoire supposed that Mr. Remington didn't know that.

"And that was very generous of you, Mr. R.," Lawson said. "But college isn't for me."

Mr. Remington shook his head and looked at Victoire. "Is that your reason as well, my dear? Is higher education and a chance to really succeed in life just _not for you_?"

Victoire shrank back in her seat. "I don't…er, I…"

"Dad!" Carter hissed. "Leave them alone. This is not the time or the place!"

"Don't even get me started on you," his father said. "I saw your grades from last semester. How the hell do you plan to get into law school with that shit on your transcript?"

"Dad, I have everything under control," Carter said slowly, obviously trying to remain calm.

"Do you?" Mr. Remington asked. "Because it seems to me that you've never had anything under control. You've practically thrown away every opportunity that's ever been handed to you. You partied your way through high school, wasting your time with that Chastity Burbank girl—"

There was that name again. Chastity Burbank. Who was that? Victoire was positive she had heard that name before.

"—You've never shown any real interest in taking over my firm someday. You're barely scraping by at Harvard. You're a smart boy, Carter. Maybe not as smart as all of your peers, but still smart. I expect more from you. The Remington family has a legacy to hold up and I would hate to see—"

Lawson stood up. "You know what," he said, "I think Vic and I should just leave. You two need to work things out alone."

Victoire nodded in agreement, relieved that he had spoken up.

Carter sighed heavily, obviously not thrilled about being left alone with his father. "Alright," he said. "I'll call you later, Victoire."

She and Lawson hurried out of the restaurant, heading to the nearest subway station.

"Lawson?" she asked, after they had taken their seats on the train. "Does Carter know that you're a wizard?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I told him when we were kids. My mom was furious when she found out. Magic has always freaked her out. My dad never told her what he was, so she had to find out about me all on her own. She was scared that Carter was going to tell everyone he knew and I would be taken away from her so that scientists could do experiments on me or something."

"But he never told anyone?"

Lawson shook his head. "Not a soul."

This wasn't surprising. Carter seemed like a trustworthy person. The kind of person who would keep a secret for anyone, but especially for a friend.

"I have another question," she said.

"Shoot." He placed his hands behind his head and leaned back in his seat, watching her intently with his bright green eyes.

"Who's Chastity Burbank?" she asked. "I mean, I know she's Carter's ex-girlfriend, but is she someone well-known? Her name sounds so familiar."

Lawson chuckled. "Chastity? Yeah, you've probably heard of her. She's an heiress to a large hotel chain. She's pretty well known for her partying and, er…sexual exploits."

Suddenly Victoire remembered exactly who she was. The blonde New York socialite who had graced the covers of many tabloids over the past few years. She had been launched from relative obscurity when she was about sixteen or seventeen when a video of her and the President's teenage son getting it on had leaked for all the world to see. This became one the biggest celebrity scandals of the year, bigger even than the highly-publicized divorce of two of Hollywood hottest A-list actors. From then on, you could hardly walk into a grocery store without seeing her face on the cover of every magazine. The paparazzi followed her everywhere, hoping to catch her doing something else equally scandalous. The media had a field day making bad puns out of the irony of her name. While she never did anything quite as scandalous as the President's son again, she'd certainly had her fair share of gossip-worthy antics. There were photos all over the Internet of her wardrobe malfunctions and excessive partying.

The train screeched to a stop and she and Lawson stepped off.

"They dated during Lawson's senior year," Lawson said, as they walked back to their building. "About a year after the whole thing with the President's son." He pulled out his phone and typed something in. "If you Google their names, all sorts of embarrassing photos come up." He handed it to her. "You can look if you want."

She took the phone from him and immediately wished she hadn't. The boy in these pictures was a far cry from the boy who had been nothing but respectful at his birthday party, the boy who had _blushed_ after their first date when he had kissed her good night _on the cheek_, the boy who had assured her that he was fine with taking things slow. This boy was the epitome of a douchey, drunken future frat boy. There were pictures of him and Chastity making out on the dance floor, his hand up her skirt. There were pictures of them drunkenly flipping off the cameras as they stumbled out of a club. There were pictures of them playing some sort of drinking game. There were pictures of them laughing together in someone's basement, their faces partially obscured by a cloud of pot smoke.

Victoire handed Lawson his phone. "Maybe I'm not really his type," she said quietly.

Lawson's brow furrowed. "Vic," he said. "Don't let these pictures worry you, okay? He was just going through that rebellious teenage stage, partying too much, dating someone his parents hated. Everyone does it."

"I didn't," she said.

"Me neither," he admitted. "I'm not much of a partier. I mean, I've been to my fair share, but mostly because Carter dragged me to them. But at the end of the night I was always the sober one that had to make sure everyone else got home safely without killing themselves."

"Really?" she asked. "I wouldn't have guessed that."

"Why?" he asked, shooting her a cocky grin. "Because of my sexy bad boy demeanor?"

She rolled her eyes. "Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say it's sexy, but yes."

He shrugged. "I'm going to tell you a secret, Vic, and you have to promise not to tell anyone else."

They were back at their building now, standing in the hallway outside of their apartments.

"What?" she asked.

He lowered his voice. "I'm kind of a nerd. I actually _liked_ going to school. I read for fun and sometimes I watch the Discovery Channel."

She giggled. "Well, aren't you just full of surprises today, Lawson Mills? You don't like partying and you're actually a nerd."

"Well, I have found that being the only sober person in a room of drunken idiots can actually be used to my advantage."

"How so?"

"It's much easier for me to get girls. All the other guys are too wasted to truly be impressive and I'm the only one who can hold my own in a conversation without puking all over the girl's dress."

"You're such a manwhore, Lawson," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Maybe," he admitted. "But enough about me. I was trying to make a point about Carter and I got off track. I was going to say that even though he likes to party, he's still a genuinely nice guy. One of the nicest, really. Chastity Burbank was a phase. You're definitely his type."

"Thanks," she murmured. "That's surprisingly sweet and considerate of you, Lawson."

"Well," he said, pulling out his key and unlocking his door. "I have my moments."

She watched as he disappeared inside of his apartment, the door closing behind him. Maybe he really wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

_Dear Teddy,_

_It's been a while since I've written to you. Not that it matters, since I haven't sent a single one of these. I've been seeing this guy. His name is Carter. He's a sweetheart. And he's very rich. I know I should be ecstatic about being with him, but I'm not. The thing is, I don't really feel anything when I'm with him. I like him, don't get me wrong, but there aren't any sparks. We had sparks. Do you remember, Teddy? When we kissed it was like someone was setting off fireworks. But there's nothing like that with Carter. We're taking things slow, which I'm happy about. But I'm concerned about the fact that I'm in absolutely no hurry to do anything but kiss him everyone once in a while. I want passion, Teddy. I want what we used to have. I want to fall head over heels in love with a boy that I cannot keep my hands off of. And I don't think that boy is Carter Remington III, as much as I wish he was._

_Love, _

_Victoire_

* * *

Melania Muldoon was on a rampage. Ever since she had arrived at the office that morning, she had been impossible to talk to or even approach without being on the receiving end of some particularly nasty verbal abuse. So far Hazel had seen her vocally attack an elderly member of the maintenance staff for "walking too loudly" as he passed by the reception desk, curse at two timid-looking kids who had come to bring their father (who happened to be their boss, Mr. Punjab) lunch at work, and yell at one of the summer interns for ten minutes straight for not having a firm enough handshake or making eye contact while she spoke to him.

"What do you think is wrong with her?" Hazel murmured.

She and Teddy stood at a safe distance from the reception desk, watching as Melania angrily attacked the envelopes she was meant to be addressing with her quill.

"I don't know," Teddy whispered back. "But I do know that Mr. Punjab is going to be pissed when he sees that all those letters have massive ink blotches all over them. They're meant to be sent to some pretty important people."

"Maybe I should go talk to her," Hazel said.

"It's your funeral," Teddy replied with a shrug.

She squared her shoulders. "I'm going over," she said, her face determined. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck," he called after her. "I'll be praying for you."

"Hello, Melania," Hazel said quietly, leaning up against the reception desk. "How are you?"

Melania glanced up, squinting at Hazel for a second before quickly glancing back down at the envelopes she was addressing.

"Hello, Hazel," she said, her tone dismissive. "Decided to venture back to the land of the reception desk for a few minutes to interact with your lessers, have you?"

"Er," Hazel replied, her face scrunching up in confusion. "I don't—"

"It seems to me that ever since Mr. Punjab promoted you and you started dating Teddy, I've barely seen you. I know your life is great right now. You have an office and a bright future and Teddy Lupin in your bed, but I hardly think that forgetting your humble roots is something you should be doing, Hazel. I was your friend before Mr. Punjab realized you could do more than file papers and fetch coffee. I was your friend before Teddy Lupin even knew your name."

"Melania, I haven't—"

Melania held up her hand, still not looking up from her work. "I don't want to hear any excuses, Hazel. I may still be a receptionist and I may be one until I retire, but I am not embarrassed. I have a steady job and that is something I take pride in."

"Melania!" Hazel finally snapped. "I have no idea what you're on about right now, but it's completely ridiculous. I do not think that I am better than you in anyway because I have been promoted or because I am dating Teddy Lupin. And I have not been ignoring you! I talk to you every day." She took a deep breath. "Now will you tell me what's really wrong?"

Hazel watched as Melania sighed heavily, setting down her quill and finally looking up. She took off her horn-rimmed glasses and rubbed her eyes. "Cadmus broke up with me," she said quietly, her voice cracking.

"That twenty-eight year old you've been seeing?" Hazel asked skeptically.

Melania's eyes narrowed. "I don't appreciate the tone in your voice right now, Hazel. My heart is broken."

"I'm sorry, Melania. I really am," Hazel said. "But, I mean…surely, you didn't really think that you'd be with him forever, did you? He's seventeen years younger than you. What do you two even have in common?"

"I must be very foolish," she whispered hoarsely. "Because I really did think he might be the one."

"Oh, Melania. You'll find someone."

"I'm forty-five, dear. I'm forty-five and I've never been married. I'm forty-five and I don't have any kids. I'm forty-five and I go home to my cat every evening."

"That could still change, Melania," Hazel said. "Just because Cadmus turned out not to be the one for you, doesn't mean that that person isn't out there somewhere. You just have to have faith, okay?"

"I gave up on faith a long time ago, Hazel," Melania said quietly. "I don't know what I was thinking, dating someone so young. Did I really think he'd one to tie himself down to me of all people? How ridiculous. How foolish. I'm sure he'll find someone young and beautiful to settle down and live happily ever after with. Two people so far apart in age with as little in common as the two of us were doomed from the beginning."

* * *

Lawson wasn't sure what he was doing there. _Again._ Why couldn't he just stop showing up at her door? Why couldn't he let go? This was stupid, so stupid. The two of them had nothing in common. Absolutely nothing at all. Their relationship had been doomed from the beginning. If he was smart, then he would turn around and go home. He wouldn't still be standing there, lifting his hand and ringing the doorbell.

This wasn't healthy.

And if Carter ever found out…

_Shit._

* * *

**Thank you to everyone who left me a review on the last chapter. Feel free to do it again!**


	7. Chapter 7

The door opened and there she was, clutching a bottle of vodka in her hand. "Oh," she said, her eyes narrowing as she gazed at him. "Hello, Lawson."

"Hey!" he greeted enthusiastically. "Can I come in?"

She lifted the bottle to her lips and took a swig. Lawson winced. Straight vodka. No thank you.

"You really shouldn't," she said, her eyelids drooping slightly as she looked at him. "We decided to end this, remember?"

"Yes," he agreed. "We did."

They stared at each other for a minute, each challenging the other to be the first one to break the silence. There was a decision that needed to be made and neither of them wanted to be the one who had to make it. In that moment, Lawson could do one of two things. He could turn around and leave for good. Or he could take a step forward and hope she let him through the door. But instead of doing either of those things, he just watched her, waiting…

She made the first move instead, her hand moving to the door knob. Was she going to open the door wider or was she going to slam it in his face? His answer came almost immediately, as the door began to close.

"Wait," he said, sticking out his foot and effectively stopping her from shutting him out. "Please let me come in. Just for a little bit." He jutted out his lower lip and gave her the best puppy dog eyes he could muster. Just let her try and say no to this.

"Fine," she said, pulling the door back open and gesturing for him to come in with the hand that was holding the bottle. Lawson winced as vodka splashed onto the floor.

"Don't worry about it," she said dismissively. "The maid will get it."

"Would that be the maid who can barely speak English?" Lawson asked, stepping inside.

She shot him a puzzled look. "How do you know about Gloria?" she asked. "We only hired her last week."

"Your husband told me," he responded. "I had lunch with him, Carter, and Carter's new girlfriend yesterday."

"My husband," she repeated stiffly, clutching the vodka bottle tightly, her knuckles turning white. "You had lunch with my husband?"

"Sort of," he replied with a shrug. "He and Carter got into an argument and I ended up leaving before eating any actually food, but… yeah."

"Well," she said quietly. "How is my dear husband? I don't think I've seen him in three or four days. He's been…_busy_."

Carter Remington II was always busy, much too busy to bother much with his wife or his son. His excuse was always the same; he was "working long hours at the office." Of course, everyone knew that wasn't really the case, everyone including his wife and his son. He'd always done a poor job at hiding his multiple extramarital affairs. He'd never been faithful to his wife. Ever since the beginning of their relationship he'd had another woman on the side. When Laura Ann Campbell had married him, she had only been nineteen. Nineteen and foolishly in love. It had taken her years to figure out that he was being unfaithful. Not because he was any good at hiding it, but simply because she had always turned a blind eye to his suspicious behavior. It wasn't until Carter was twelve and she walked in on her husband and his secretary, that she finally realized what had been happening all along. After that, she simply learned to put on a smile and pretend everything was fine. She held her husband's hand in public and never mentioned the Brazilian model or Swedish flight attendent or the single mom who lived a few floors down or any of the others. She got Botox injections three times a year, partly because she hated wrinkles, but mostly because it made it easier to mask her emotions. She drowned her insecurities by drinking and swallowed her pride along with her pills and she never let on to anyone how truly unhappy she was.

"He's still an ass," Lawson replied.

She smirked, leading them into the living room. Lawson sat down in a chair and she sat down across from him on the couch. Neither of them spoke. Lawson shifted uncomfortably, his gaze wandering. It was a truly gorgeous room, but so were all the others in the apartment. Laura Remington made sure of that. Every room had a theme and she had taken speial care to ensure that only the finest furniture and most expensive artwork were featured. The living room happened to be Art Deco inspired. She had studied Frank Lloyd Wright's designs, spent hours scouring antique shop, and outbid as many people as she could on eBay. The result was, of course, exceptional. She even had the windows in the room replaced with beautiful stained glass. An original Andy Warhol print hung right above his head.

"I need to use the bathroom," he said, standing up. "I'll be right back."

He didn't go into the guest bathroom, but instead headed right to the bathroom located in the master suite. Her bathroom. He locked the door behind him and flung open the medicine cabinet. He wasn't surprised about what he found. So many little orange bottles. _Too many _little orange bottles. He knew for a fact that she didn't need any of them, not for medical reasons anyway. He sighed, pulling each bottle out of the cabinet one by one and dumping its contents down the drain. She's be pissed when she found out and she'd know it was him that was responsible, but he didn't care. There was something about Laura Remington, something that made him want to keep her safe.

It was very wrong, what they were doing. He knew that. A twenty year old boy having an affair with his best friend's forty year old mother. Neither of them had meant for it to happen. But it had. It started a little over a year ago. He had accidently walked in on her crying alone in her room. This had surprised him. She had always seemed so impossibly strong. He had never realized how much she was hurting inside. He sat down next to her and attempted to comfort her, but she had only cried harder. So he did what he always did when a girl started crying, he leaned in and kissed her. Almost immediately he had pulled away, horrified. What had he done? This was Carter's mom, a women he'd known since he was a little kid. Surely she would yell at him or slap him or tell him to get out of her house and never come back. But she hadn't done any of those things. She just placed her hand on the back of his neck and pulled him back in.

Over the next few months, he had learned everything about her. How she had left her small town in Iowa when she was eighteen to come live in New York. How she used most of her life savings to buy herself a new nose and the rest to rent a crappy apartment. How she got a job as a waitress in a diner and met Carter Remington II when he came in for a celebratory cup of coffee and slice of pie after winning the biggest case in his career thus far. She caught his eye immediately and he charmed her out of that diner and into his bed without much trouble at all. She was young and naive and desperate for love and wealth, both of which he was offering. She fell head over heels in love and when she found out she was pregnant, she was thrilled when he offered to marry her. His parents, on the other hand, were furious. She remembered sitting in the other room, listening as they berated their son, begging him not to marry "that slutty little waitress" and to consider "that lovely Lillian Fawcett instead." He'd married her against his parents' wishes, though she realized much later that it didn't stop him from fucking "that lovely Lillian Fawcett" throughout all of their engagement and most of their first year of marriage.

Lawson went back into the living room and sat down beside her on the couch.

"Why are you here?" she murmured. "We ended this thing months ago."

It was true, they had. Well, _she_ had. In April, she finally put her foot down and said that they could no longer see each other. It would hurt Carter too much if he ever found out. His mother and his best friend-it was too much to risk letting him find out. So they had gone their separate ways and, from what Lawson had heard, her latest affair was with her tennis instructor, a thirty year old Italian named Marco.

He shrugged. "I missed you."

"I have to be somwhere soon," she whispered, as he took her hand in his. "I'm in charge of this charity auction. If I'm late, Lillian Fawcett will try to take over. That woman has the tackiest taste in the world. I simply can't let her..." She trailed off as he leaned in closer. "Are you going to kiss me, Lawson Mills?"

"You bet, Mrs. R.," he replied with a grin.

He closed the space between them quickly, their lips meeting for the first time in months. The problem was that as soon as they began to kiss, an image of another girl, a very different girl, popped into his head. He pulled away.

"I'm sorry," he said. "This was a mistake. I can't do this anymore"

"This was your idea," she said, frowning.

"I know," he said. "And I'm sorry. I wanted to see if I could get her out of my head."

"Who?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest and leaning back in her seat.

They must have looked like an odd pair, sitting their together. He in his old T-shirt , faded jeans, and shaggy hair. She in her white linen pantsuit, expensive jewlery, and imppecable blonde highlights.

"This girl I work with," he said. "She's beautiful and smart and absolutely infuriating. We drive each other insane, but I think I'm in love with her."

"Then tell her that," Laura replied.

"I can't," he said."She has a boyfriend."

"Whoever this boy is," she said. "He cannot be as good as you."

"It's Carter," he admitted.

Her eyebrows shot up in the air. "Ohh," she said. "Well, that is certainly a problem."

"First his mother and now his girlfriend," Lawson muttered, shaking his head. "I'm a terrible friend."

* * *

**This chapter is really short, but I wrote it all pretty quickly in the middle of the night. I'm leaving for college later today, so I don't know how often I'll get a chance to update, but I'll try my best.**


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